


La jetée n'est plus loin

by Elyant



Series: The Devil makes three [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: A weird absence of dialogues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Gen, Hints of Nathaniel/Jean if you squint, Murder, Nathaniel's life on the run, Neil is not Neil in this story, Raven!Neil, Self-indulgent references to French poetry, Torture, Wesninski related unpleasantness, What is coherent writing style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyant/pseuds/Elyant
Summary: What if Nathaniel Wesninski had been raised a Raven, and his mother only ran away with him when he was fifteen ? What if his father caught them four years later, and Stuart Hatford had rescued him too late to save his right leg ?OrNathaniel's side of the AU before he meets Andrew.





	La jetée n'est plus loin

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't plan to write Nathaniel|Abram's backstory in this AU, but then it crept up on me and wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> Also I might have lied when I said the alterations to canon would probably be explained along the way in the other part of this story. It turns out most of them actually made their way into this prequel. While I don’t think you need to read _Just learning how to know your mind_ to read this, you might want to read this to have a better overview of the situation in JLHKYM.
> 
> Usual disclaimers : this is unbeta'd ; English isn't my first language ; the characters don't belong to me, I'm just playing in the sandbox.

Nathaniel is ten years old when he meets Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama for the first time, and they spend the afternoon playing Exy together.

The game is uneven, one backliner against two strikers, and Nathaniel can't deflect all of their attempts to score. He's good, better than his little league teammates, but Kevin and Riko are even better as befit Ravens trained players.

His performance must be enough to please Riko because, at the end of the game, he tells Nathaniel he could become the number three of his Perfect Court, capital letters audible. Nathaniel eyes the matching numbers on Riko's and Kevin's cheek, finally understanding their full meaning. A part of him is proud to be deemed worthy of Riko's attention, while another thinks it's silly to settle for the third place when there's no way to know how their skills will evolve. He doesn't protest the ranking for now though; he's simply content to play the sport he loves with people as skilled as he is for once. It will be disappointing to go back to his little league team after that.

He hopes he won't have to.

He doesn't know yet that hope is a dangerous thing.

After a quick shower, the three of them are led to the eastern tower of Evermore stadium, the one reserved for Moriyama guests and business clients Kevin explains.

A man is bound to a chair in the middle of the room, blindfold and naked except for his underwear. A thick tarp covers the floor under him. As soon as Nathaniel steps inside, he knows what will happen in the next hours. The setting is the same as the one in the basement of a house in Baltimore he can't quite bring himself to call home.

The only difference is the audience. Several men stand around the room, and while most of them try to hide their unease with varied degrees of success, only two are truly unaffected by the display. Kengo Moriyama sits on an ordinary chair the same way a king would on a throne, commanding attention to himself without granting his own. Nathan Wesninski leans against the window overlooking the stadium, the picture of nonchalance idly playing with a knife. Nathan's jeans and plain black shirt make him stand out amongst the group of businessmen in expensive suits. Nathaniel heard his father explain it before: why bother with expensive clothes when they'll be soaked with blood by the end of his task.

Without prompting, Nathaniel goes to stand beside his father. He's careful not to flinch as a large hand ruffles his still damp curls. Studied to be perceived as affectionate, the gesture only feels proprietary to Nathaniel.

Then, with a nod from the head of the Moriyama family, the Butcher pushes himself from the wall and goes to work.

Nathaniel knows better than to show his discomfort at the slaughter taking place in front of him; pain makes for a efficient teacher. That doesn't mean he watches his father illustrate why one shouldn't go against the Moriyama. It's nothing he didn't see before, and it certainly won't be the last time he attends the grim spectacle of someone knowing nothing will save them but begging for their life anyway. Nathaniel would rather observe the reaction of the two boys he had such a great time with before his father's job ruined the afternoon.

Kevin's face is pallid; Nathaniel is sure the other boy will be sick as soon as he'll be allowed to leave the room. Riko's reaction is more interesting. At first, he only has eyes for his father, awed at the simple sight of a man ignoring him from the other side of the room. (Nathaniel's relationship to his own father being what it is, he doesn't understand the feeling.) However murder is hard to ignore, and Riko's attention is soon redirected to the center of the room.

Nathaniel has lived all his life with a monster, and he learned to recognise their markings. The shimmer of something akin to delight in Riko's dark eyes as he watches a man being reduced to a weeping, bloody mess tells Nathaniel he has found another one.

* * *

Jean Moreau is one year older than Nathaniel when he joins the Ravens. Or more accurately, when his family sells him to Tetsuji Moriyama to settle a debt.

Nathaniel is distrustful at first, as he is with anyone older and taller than he is – which is pretty much everyone around him. They are to be partners though, and in the Nest trusting your partner is a question of life and death. More so when you are the third and fourth members of Riko's Perfect Court.

Jean doesn't know how to hide his true feelings behind feigned reverence and obedience in order to avoid the snap of Tetsuji's cane or the bite of Riko's knife. Nathaniel recognises the glint of defiance in Jean's grey eyes from looking in the mirror when no one is watching. They both pay for it in the first months of their partnership.

Then, when Nathaniel estimates Jean is in for the long haul, he decides it's time to make their life a little bit easier. He learned to keep his emotions from showing on his face before he was old enough to comprehend what he was doing, so he offers to help Jean create his own mask without losing himself in the process. In exchange, Jean teaches him French in the quiet hours that are not occupied by Exy, school, and Riko's temper tantrums.

That's the first deal in a long line of them : a mask of docility for a new language.

Life in the Nest after that isn’t better. They are still punished for the mistakes they make on the court or for whatever reason that will appease Riko’s craving for violence. The difference is now they trust each other to nurse their injuries, to hold onto when the nightmares or the pressure is too much, to push through panic attacks, and to be reassured that _it was just a dream, not the real thing, not again, not since last month_ when they wake with a breathless gasp, choking on the memories of lungs filled with water.

Jean has grown with the warmth of the sun on his skin, the taste of sea salt on his lips, and the cries of seagulls in his ears. A childhood that was ripped away from him the moment his father made a deal with the wrong people.

Nathaniel doesn't begrudge his partner the careless freedom his own childhood was deprived of. On the contrary, trapping Jean in the suffocating darkness of the Nest seems unfair to Nathaniel. It's like clipping the wings of a majestic bird and putting it in a cage just as it was learning to fly.

Later, when Nathaniel will know enough French to browse through Jean's volumes of poetry, he'll take to call him _Prince des nuées_ in the privacy of their shared room. After all, if Riko is King it's only fair for his court to be composed of princes.

* * *

Nathaniel gets to spend his fifteenth birthday's dinner with his mother. In the last five years, he only caught a glimpse of Mary Hatford-Wesninki from afar every once in a while during official meetings or celebrations. He doesn't remember much of their relationship before he came to the Nest, but they're not bad memories either : a supportive smile at the end of his little league games, a soothing hand in his hair and a light kiss to his forehead before he went to sleep, careful fingers stitching up the marks of his interactions with his father.

He doesn't know how to feel about the reunion, but he thinks he'd rather spend the evening with Jean, curled in the same bed and learning about constellations they might never get a chance to see properly.

(He had a dream about that once. The both of them were lying in the middle of a field, the grass under their bodies soft like a flannel blanket, the sky over their heads an endless sheet of dark blue pierced by a thousand pinpricks of light. The peaceful setting was a reprieve from his usual nightmares, blood-red and filled with screams. He hadn’t wanted to wake up in the morning, just wished to stay in the quiet blue of that night for the next eternity. Too soon a sharp knock on the door and Jean’s hand in his hair had pulled him back to reality.)

The meal isn't as awkward as he feared it would be.

Mary asks about school, Exy, books or movies he's read or seen recently. They talk about the places they'd like to go if they could escape their respective cages.

She tells him edited stories about her family in England. He doesn't trust her enough to do more than mention Jean as his roommate. She doesn't say anything about her husband or the family’s trade. He doesn't talk about Riko's temper and the new scars that appeared on his skin even away from his father.

Nathaniel should have known better than to think someone who married his father didn't have an ulterior motive when requesting to spend time with him.

He falls asleep against the car window on the way back to Evermore and wakes up in a private plane halfway across the Atlantic with no memory of getting on board.

The panic abates when he turns his head and his eyes land on his mother in the seat next to him reading a book in German, only to flare up again when he realizes that he's not supposed to be here.

He should be back at the Nest. Tetsuji will be furious, Riko will be enraged, Jean will be alone. _Jean will be alone_.

Nathaniel’s presence at Jean’s side is both a danger and a form of protection. They are both property, but Nathaniel has added value so Riko couldn’t damage him as much as he would have liked. That relative protection extends to Jean in the sense that his partner uses it to stand between him and Riko’s anger. With Nathaniel gone, there is no telling what Riko will inflict on Jean. Nathaniel doesn’t like the ideas his imagination suggests.

A hand on the back of his neck pulls him back from his spiraling thoughts. It pushes his head down between his knees, and a voice commands him to breathe.

His mother leaves him in one of the airport lounge and goes to talk to one of his uncles about new identities and passports and money, because apparently his family on this side of the Atlantic is also a crime syndicate. Nathaniel would laugh if he was sure it wouldn't come out more hysterical than socially acceptable when one is sitting alone in a public space.

Stuart Hatford is two years older than Mary but could pass for her twin. They share the same height (and Nathaniel doesn't wonder anymore why he's on the small side for his age), the same light brown hair, the same stubborn scowl.

Nathaniel take advantage of his mother's distraction to type a quick message on his phone. He has no doubt he won't be allowed to keep it, the fact he still have it exceptional in itself. He hesitates over the words for a moment before he settles for the simplest formulation.

> _I'm sorry_.

Nathaniel doesn't often mean his apologies. He trusts Jean to know this one is genuine, to understand that he didn't have a say in the decision not to return to Evermore after his fifteenth birthday. That he hasn't willingly broken his promises. He knows it won't be enough to appease the betrayal and the pain Jean must be in right now, but there is nothing else Nathaniel can do.

Nathaniel's thumb hovers a second above the send button before hitting it. Then he dismantles the phone, breaks the SIM card between his fingers, and throws the pieces in several bins as he follows his mother in the labyrinth that is Heathrow Airport to the gate of their connecting flight to Hamburg.

Nathaniel and his mother board the plane and become Stefan and Kristin; the first of a serie of names that will be anything but their own.

* * *

(Had she not taken him that night, he would have been marked as an official member of the Perfect Court the next day. The inked three under his eye the indelible sign of the Moriyama’s ownership. It was her last chance to save her son, and she would not fail this time.

She leaves several false trails and decoys to mislead her husband and his men while she’s smuggling her son toward Europe and a life on the run.)

* * *

Erik is shot in the shoulder somewhere in Albania. Christophe refuses to take his Kevlar vest off for a entire month after that, until his mother has to threaten to shoot him herself if he wears it any longer.

They've been on the run for almost two years, and he doesn’t think they’ll ever be able to stop. During the first month, he could have found his way back to the Nest, played the unwilling victim of his mother's plan, and it would have been accepted with minimal repercussions for him if not for his mother. If he’s being honest - which he’s not often these days - he can't deny having thought about it. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to forsake his newfound freedom even when it came with a short leash tightly held by his mother’s hand

His temper has never meshed well with being ordered around without explanations, but he learns to curb his defiance with small acts of rebellion whenever he can get away with them. Nothing that would compromise them; he knows better. Being caught at this point means a certain and painful death.

His attempts at 'normal teenager experiences' are not really conclusive though. Alcohol tastes too much like pain and bitten back screams as wounds are sterilised for him to enjoy drinking it for fun. There's no thrill in smoking when his mother doesn't care if he does as long as it doesn't prevent him from running. In Hamburg, a girl had kissed Stefan, but her green eyes reminded him of Kevin, and the thought was awkward enough to put a stop to anything else she might have wanted. When Chris kisses a boy in Barcelona he try not to think about the colour of his eyes, grey like the sky before a storm. However the kisses are decisions based more on curiosity than desire, and the bruises that bloom on his skin when his mother finds out are not worth it.

The one thing he picks up that sticks through borders and identity changes is browsing through Exy magazines while his mother is otherwise occupied. Forgetting everything about the sport like Mary ordered isn’t the easiest thing, when that sport is what allowed him to survive through years of abuse.

Chris is in the international press section of a library in Madrid, waiting for his mother to return from a meeting with one of her contacts, when he learns about Kevin Day's broken hand. He recognises the story about a skiing accident for the cover-up it is and wonders what Kevin did to incur Riko's rage, when it was so rarely turned against him physically.

Idle curiosity is replaced by anger as he keeps reading, and Nathaniel almost puts his own hand through the wall. Kevin has fled to the Foxes (to his father, but only three people know that and the reporter isn't one of them), leaving Jean behind in the Nest to endure Riko's reaction. Nathaniel is acutely aware of the hypocrisy of the feeling when he's the one who left Jean first. He didn't have a choice, but then he's sure Kevin would argue the same.

His muttered curse is loud enough to draw a wide-eyed look from the girl next to him. She's about his age, with soft brown eyes half-hidden by a fringe of dark blond hair, and has been sneaking glances at him ever since she started browsing through old issues of _Vogue_. I-find-you-cute-but-don't-dare-talk-to-you glances, not I-recognise-you-and-will-bring-you-back-to-your-murderous-father glances. It took some time, but he's mostly confident in his ability to distinguish one from the other now.

He slips back into Christophe's skin, easy as breathing, and smoothes the anger into sheepishness. He explains in French-accented Spanish how he just realised he has forgotten his phone when he's supposed to meet a friend later. The girl lends him her own phone with a bright smile and stands too close to him in an unsubtle attempt to read the short message he's typing. Her face falls in disappointment when she can't, and Chris feels Nathaniel's smirk tugging at his lips.

> _Le vent se lève..._

He hasn't used the code made of verses from some of their favourite French poems in months but he still remembers every combinations and meanings. This one is probably the less subtle he can think of but he needs to know if Jean survived Kevin's escape or if Nathaniel lost his childhood friend to Riko's temper.

The message isn't a small act of rebellion. It's a risk to their safety, but a necessary one for his sanity.

He refuses to considers the time difference or the possibility of Jean not seeing the text before he has to leave the library, or the fact that dead people can't text back. Especially that last one.

The phone vibrates in his hand, and he stares at the reply as relief floods through him.

> **_Il faut tenter de vivre_**

The words don’t tell him in what state Riko left Jean’s body and mind, but they tell him his friend is alive and planning to stay that way.

Chris makes sure to delete both messages before giving the phone back to the girl with heartfelt thanks that aren't really directed at her.

* * *

Alex is nineteen years old when his mother makes her first mistake since they ran away three years ago. If one does not count running in the first place as a mistake, obviously. He still doesn't know why his mother decided to run when she did. If she was so against him playing with the Ravens, why not leave when he was ten, after the trials ? He asked once; the sting of the answering slap dissuaded him from asking again.

Coming back to the States is just another inexplicable decision Alex tries not to question, lest he wants a reminder that his mother's anger can be as harsh as his father's. The differences reside only in intent (protection instead of sadistic pleasure) and in physical evidences (bruises instead of bloody gashes).

Helen counts on her husband not thinking her foolish enough to attempt coming back to the States by the East coast and consequently not keeping a closer watch than usual on it. So that exactly what she does. However, she doesn't count on one of the Hatfords' informant to be lured by the prospect of selling his missing son and wife to the Butcher of Baltimore even though he'll incur the wrath of the British crime family. (The man dies anyway ; Nathan Wesninski has no love for traitors, even when they are in his favour.)

Nathan Wesninski's people catch up to them on the second day.

Nathaniel has never had much hope of living a long life, but he didn’t think he would die at eighteen either.

He watches his mother's body burn in a car on a beach somewhere on the East coast, his last identity burning with her. He's only been Neil Josten for two days, but he think he might have grown attached to him. More than he ever was to Stefan, Chris, Alex, or the others in between. Yesterday, or even this morning, that thought would have earned him his mother's anger. Now, he won't have to worry about her reaction anymore.

He kneels in the sand, Lola Malcolm standing behind him with a hand around his throat and a demented smile on her blood-red lips. His mouth tastes like the blood from his split lip, the ashes of the pyre, the salt of the sea spray. He fills his mind with the pounding of his heart, the roar of the fire, and the distant swell of the waves in order to block out the meaning of Lola's delighted whispers. Some words still filter through : _so much fun together, Junior_ … _Daddy’s waiting for you_...

Nathaniel isn't sure if he's lucky not to be in the car right now. Is burning alive a more atrocious death than being chopped up one piece at a time ? It's probably a quicker one he thinks, especially when Nathan Wesninski is the one handling the cleaver.

He doesn't know how long they stay here, an improbable wake for a woman who wasn't really a mother and never wanted to be a wife. At some point one of the goons douses the flickering flames, picks up the cooling bones, and shoves them unceremoniously in a bag.

The journey back to Baltimore, no matter the actual distance, is the longest car ride of Nathaniel's life. He's shoved in the passenger seat as Romero Malcolm slides behind the wheel, a gun pressed to Nathaniel's temple to let his sister the time to climb into the backseat. She pulls his arms around the chair to cuff his hands as tight as she can. The sharp press of cold metal against his fingertips makes all ideas of struggling flee Nathaniel's mind. Resisting will only make this more painful for him, while staying as still as possible will rob Lola of her satisfaction. He closes his eyes and does his best to ignore her cruel taunts once more. That also means he doesn't hear when she announce her change in method of torture.

Nathaniel's eyes snap open as the dashboard lighter pops free of its lock with a metallic clink. His wavering control finally breaks, and he jerks away from Lola. Or he tries to. The handcuffs and the sudden grip of her hand around his throat keep him in place as pain explodes under his left eye. _So the little king can't claim you back,_ he hears her coo through the pain, _not that there'll be much of you left when we're done_. He barely has time to process her words before the hot metal is pressed against his skin once more. He loses track of time after that, his entire world reduced to pain and the smell of burning flesh.

At some point they stop and switch car. Lola pushes him down inside the trunk before snuggling next to him in the crowded space. He can't help the shudder that runs down his spine as her hand trails down his chest appreciatively. He wills himself to black out; the blinding pain radiating from his face and arms help.

Nathaniel survives long enough to see Lola's expression of surprise as bullets tear through her, Patrick DiMaccio's lifeless body laid out on the cold basement floor, and his father brought to his knees by Stuart Hatford's men.

His face and arms are covered in burns and lacerations, and he doesn't want to think about his right leg, pulsing agony with every twitch of his body. He ignores all that in favour of watching his uncle put a single bullet through the skull of the monster that haunted him his entire life, a merciful death Nathan Wesninski doesn't deserve.

* * *

He slides out of the car, carefully leaning more to his left, his right leg still not quite healed enough to support his full weight. He takes the crutches Felix offers him without protest; stubbornness won't make him heal faster. Castle Evermore looms in front of him, brimming with spectators as Ravens and Foxes battle for the championship trophy.

The way to the eastern tower hasn’t changed in nine years, but he's no longer the enthusiastic and nervous little boy he was back then. The room is empty but he freezes for a moment as the screams of a dying man overlap the joyous ruckus caused by a goal down on the court. Felix's firm hand on his shoulder and their steady voice calling his name bring him back from his memories.

He sits with his back resolutely turned to the glass overlooking the court. Noise cancelling headphones and a steady stream of classical music – one of the rare things he retained from countless therapy sessions – prevent him from hearing the commentaries, the cheers of spectators, and the sharp sound of a ball rebounding off plexiglass walls.

Nathaniel hasn't played Exy in four years; Abram will never play again. He’s not yet certain the sport won’t be one of the many features that constitute his nightmares.

He closes his eyes and lets Vivaldi's _Summer_ wash over him, bringing back memories of afternoons spent with Jean in the quiet between two of Riko's tantrums.

Jean has been rescued by Nathaniel's bargain and the compassion of a girl with rainbow tipped hair and steel behind her soft smile. He is safe on the other side of the country, back under the sun and by the seaside.

Once they had both healed enough to leave their beds, they were granted one meeting in the relative solitude of an airport lounge, Jean on his way to California and Nathaniel arriving from London. They had one hour to catch up on four years apart. They spent most of it silently staring at each other, cataloguing the differences and reveling in the unaltered. The same look was mirrored in their eyes : they had been pushed over a cliff’s edge and were surprised to survive the fall. Not unscathed - they have more scars than should be permitted for one person to have - but alive and with a chance at healing.

Behind Abram, the Foxes win by a single point scored on the last second of the game. He doesn't see Kevin slumps down on his knees in relief and Riko strides toward him in fury, racket poised over his head in a very public (and very stupid) attempt at murder. He doesn't hear Riko's cries as Andrew Minyard's racket collides with his arm. None of that matters in the face of the task he’s here to carry out.

Riko’s feud with the Foxes since Kevin transferred after his injury had been too public to allow direct involvement from the main branch of the family. As his attempts to sabotage the team became messier and more difficult to dismiss (a staged suicide attempt and the bribery of law enforcement and medical personnel are not as easily explainable by overzealous fans as material destruction) something had to be done. While craving his father’s attention, Riko failed to take into account the possibility of this attention being a nefarious thing, especially when the attention he eventually got was his brother’s.

Reshaping an empire is a bloody business, and the first heads to roll are often within the royal family.

Just like nine years ago, as soon as Riko steps inside the room, his gaze is fixed on a man that doesn’t really care for him. Where there was only the awe of a ten years old for his father, the emotions on his face are more complex in his brother’s presence. Love and pride war with jealousy and resentment.

Ichirou ignores his little brother as he orders his uncle’s resignation from the main coach position of Edgar Allen’s Ravens, a small price to pay for the extent of his failings to the family. When Ichirou turns toward Riko, the hand that cups his cheek is almost tender. The younger man’s shudder as a thumb brushes gently over the mark of his pride is visible from the other side of the room. Ichirou’s words however are not directed at him and they finally draws Riko’s attention to the other people in the room.

Bewilderment and fury swallow his face and his words, but he doesn’t go further than stuttering through the syllables of Nathaniel’s name. Nathaniel doesn’t give him the time to, as he has no patience for any kind of verbal abuse Riko surely wishes he could throw at his runaway player. The silencer muffles the detonation, blood splatters Tetsuji’s bowed back, and Riko’s body slides on the ground.

* * *

Abram Hatford is twenty-three years old (or twenty-two, depending which birth certificate you trust). He speaks six languages fluently, and a couple others enough to be understood. He has lived in sixteen cities and worn as many different identities, with their distinct backstories and physical appearances.

In the past two years, he learned not to flinch every times he catches sight of auburn hair and blue eyes in reflective surfaces, even though he still can’t resolve himself to hang a mirror on his bathroom walls after he broke the first one during a panic attack. The knife marks and burns that cover his face and arms have faded into scars, skin alternately raised and smooth. Tattoos have appeared on his arms, intertwined with them; geometric lines, vines with small flowers and prickly thorns.

He carries a cane he doesn't always need, a familiar weight in his grip like the one of an Exy racket used to be. It has the added benefit of making people think twice before hitting him. Since he's better at starting fights than finishing them, it gives him time to hit first and end the fight before it really begin.

_The Devil makes three_ is in the Hatford’s possession since Sean Hatford, Abram’s grandfather, had the idea of implanting a branch of the family in the States. Before Abram and Marissa took over the management of the pub though, it was just a seedy hole in the wall with no name and very few clients.

It’s still infamous in the right circle for being under the protection of both the Moriyama and Hatford families, but now the walls are filled with warmth, music, conversations and laughter.

It’s the place where Abram Hatford will meet Andrew Minyard properly for the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading !
> 
> Title : _Ginger_ by Feu!Chatterton (which has great Neil/Jean vibes in my opinion, even if it's not the fic I wrote)
> 
> Poems quoted (French version + translation in English) :  
> [ _L'Albatros_ , Charles Beaudelaire](https://fleursdumal.org/poem/200)  
> [ _Le Cimetière Marin_ , Paul Valéry ](https://www.terreaciel.net/Le-Cimetiere-marin-et-Les-Pas-de-Paul-VALERY-traduits-en-anglais-par-David-Leo)
> 
> For those who await an update of JLHKYM : chapter 3 is a pain to write while the next two are mostly done. My studies-related stuggles are not helping. I may not update before a few months, and I’m sorry for that, but I will not give up the story I promise. (I just hope Article 13 won't forbid me to share it with you)


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